Someone Behind You
by MayMargaret
Summary: Anya Morson has just started her life over. A new home, a new country. But when murders are committed in the nearby town, the BAU find too many connections to her to ignore. Coincidence, or foul play?
1. Chapter 1

Anya opened the door to a crack, and found herself eyeing 3 individuals on her doorstep.

"Miss Morson?" The tall, muscular guy asked from the front, holding out an FBI ID badge.

"Yes?" She replied, opening the door wider slightly, eyeing the three pensively. A woman glanced the surrounding environment behind then, while a tall, thin male was staring down at the floor, his eyebrows furrowed behind his sunglasses.

"I'm SSA Derek Morgan, I wonder if we might take a few minutes of your time discuss the murders over the last couple of weeks?" Again she eyed the other two, particularly the guy who looked like he was in pain. "Of course," she said with a nervous smile, and motioned for the 3 to enter.

"Must be a little freaky, all this," the dark haired woman observed as she entered, looking at Anya with a sympathetic smile. She nodded, shifting uncomfortably. "Can I get anyone a drink?" She asked, but they shook there heads, and the other guy remained silent, not having removed his shades, despite the relatively dim lighting in the living area. "Is he ok?" She whispered to the woman, who was also eyeing him strangely.

She shook her head dismissively. "Reid's fine, I'm Prentiss, by the way."

Seconds later they were sat around the dining area, Morgan and Prentiss across the table and the guy they referred to as Reid at the end, unpacking a satchel.

"Did you know any of the suspects, Miss?" Morgan asked softly, and Anya thought for a moment. "I met one of them, Celia, though psychology class, but we never really spoke," she recalled, remembering how the tutor paired them together on that one short task.

Out of the corner of her eye, Reid passed her a A4 photo of the girl she remembered, smiling widely, her similarly red waves falling around her.

"Is this the girl?" Prentiss checked, but of course she knew it was, and she nodded anyway.

"How about Tina Thomson," Morgan asked, while the younger man passed another photo over of a girl she didn't recognise. Next to the one of Celia, they looked similar.

"They both have similar hair," she observed out-loud, and began to take a closer look. Separating them a couple of times, she noticed the similarities. "Both have the similar hair and eyes..."

"To you," Reid said, his voice cracking slightly from lack of speaking. Anya rose her eyes to his shaded ones from the pictures, and she could see them faintly. The image blurred with tears, and she tugged her eyes away from his to look at the pictures. He was right, and she too had known. Both looked like her in certain ways. Slightly too similar to ignore.


	2. Chapter 2

Anya breathed in sharply, feeling like she was in a dream. She felt dizzy, and not quite there, and yet _too _there, and retaining the details like a sponge. _Two girls, same university, similar hair, similar features. Too much for a coincidence,_ she recounted, a tear falling down her cheek and landing on the table, just missing the picture of Tina.

"We realise how unsettling this must be, would you like to take a break?"

Anya glanced up at Morgan, his eyes gentle, clashing with his tough-guy exterior. Anya shook her head, before passing the two photos back to Reid. She looked back to him and smiled. "It's not that bright in here," she joked, and he cracked a small grin as he gathered the pictures back up. "I know, just a little photosensitive," he replied, connecting his eyes with hers. She nodded sympathetically, before going back to the other agents before her.

"Was Tina in the same class?"

They nodded, and she let out a small, shaky breath As she closed her eyes for a second. When she opened them, the room had stopped moving.

"Those poor girls," she thought out-loud, her hands fidgeting in the lap of her dress.

"As you've observed, there are certain traits you share with the victim, leading us to believe the unsub may be targeting you indirectly. Can you think of anyone, anyone who might be following you?"

"You think this is a stalker case?"

Prentiss nodded slowly.

"One that is either trying to scare me or..."

"Or make his presence known. We don't think he wants to harm you," Reid finished, completing the inkling that she couldn't put words to.

"Like an old boyfriend, one that wasn't happy about your leaving?" Morgan pressed, and Anya thought as quick as she could.

"There was...one," she began, thinking back to the final weeks and days before the left her home in Scotland, focusing one one man in particular.

"Aiden...we finished a few months ago," she said.

"And how did he take the news?" Morgan asked, and the scene was clear in her mind. "We didn't speak for months, until we chatted on messenger for a while and I told him. He was at my door for 2 hours begging me not to go," she recalled, those agonising hours still fresh. It was the last time she had seen him.

The silence that followed was broken by Reid's voice. "Anya, did Aiden have any problems, mentally, drugs, alcohol?"

"That was the reason we broke up. He got into drink and I ended it, then he got into drugs, started behaving erratically in school...i would hear that he had been in drunk and falling over the tables some mornings."

Prentiss shook her head sadly, while Morgan looked more focused. "Can you tell us his last name?"

"Semlin."

Morgan took out a phone and began pressing some of the keys.

"Ok, that should be all for now, thank you for your help," he finally stated as they all stood.

"You'll keep in touch?" Anya asked nervously, but a whole new kind of nervous. "Of course," Prentiss replied, a kind smile on her face as left the room, following Morgan. Reid, however, hesitated.

"You alright?" She asked him, and he snapped his eyes to her. "Yeah, sorry, stupid question, I wonder if you might have aspirin?" He laughed shyly, clutching the handle of his satchel. Anya nodded, smiling, and motioned for him to follow her into the kitchen.

"How long have you been suffering these headaches?" she asked as she reached into the cupboard, shifting and checking boxes as he waited behind.

"A couple of weeks," he replied, his voice low and quiet. Her hand landed on the box in question, and checked the front door as she passed to get some water. "What has the doctor said?" She asked, knowing this guy would be cautious for some reason. The man looked pensive. "Nothing that I didn't know," he admitted, his voice uncertain. "Nothing physiologically wrong," he added.

"Sorry, being nosy," she suddenly realised, blushing at herself. But something about him was kind of...intriguing. Interesting enough to almost take her mind away from the surrounding situation. "No, no, it's fine," he replied hastily, shaking his head in dismissal.

She thought for a moment about his seeming uncertainty over nothing being physically wrong, and the psychologist in her was at work. "You don't believe him?"

He eyed her again, and she damned those glasses for shading his eyes. "Id better be going," he said suddenly, and Anya once again mentally slapped herself. "Yeah, sorry."

...

Spencer sat in the office, rolling the pen between his fingers as he leaned back into his seat, staring passed the computer screen with a slight frown as he considered his last moments with Anya Morson.

"Is there anything else?" He asked as he turned to say his goodbyes to the girl behind, but her wide eyes stared back at him kindly. "No," she replied, and he mentally shook himself for making her uneasy. When he said he needed to go, he suspecting she mistook that as him thinking she was pushing of information. When in fact, he had told her more about his situation than he had told anyone else. When he left, he was cutting himself away, not her.

"Wait," her voice requested as he turned, and he found her eyes to be on him. "Sorry, psychology habits kicking in, but perhaps the doctor is right," she stated, and her statement confounded him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, the mind is capable of thinking itself of pushing itself into all kinds of strange things, and some not so strange. Sometimes, the consciousness prepares itself for something the person believes is going to happen, and they have the symptoms of something as a way of preperation."

Spencer watched her as she explained, wishing to believe her words.

"Besides, I don't think the doctor would withhold something like that from you, and physiology includes pretty much everything...including certain extra neurochemicals," she concluded, slightly rushed, and her eyes slowly losing distance, and blushed again. "Sorry," she said, looking down with a smile.

"Hey!"

Spencer dropped the pen in his lap and almost fell back from his chair as Garcia's voice shattered his thoughts.

"You never jump," she observed quietly, her arms filled with files. He mentally shook himself, and calmed his breath. "Just thinking over the case," he reasoned, covering up his lie by making the effort not to blink. Garcia eyed him suspiciously. "But there's nothing to think over...we have our guy...we just need to actually catch him..."

Her words slowly tuned out as his mind drifted, his eidetic memory picturing the young man she reported as her ex boyfriend. It baffled him that trash like that landed someone like her...huh?

"Reid!"

"Huh?" He stared up at her obliviously.

she shook her head and wondered away, talking too herself about the wonders of the apparently genius mind of Dr Spencer Reid.


	3. Chapter 3

As soon as she closed the door, Anya allowed her legs to slowly give way as she slipped down the floor, tears flowing, eyes darting to the phone. Now, more than anything, she missed home. She missed her family. And this new place felt more alien and more horrific than ever.

After a few minutes, she closed her eyes in exhaustion, her head falling back to the door with a light _thud._ When she stopped for just a few moments, she could hear everything in the apartment. The hum of the heater, the soft drone of the cars outside. Noises that made her feel isolated and forlorn. Feelings she wasn't used to...

Her eyes opened, and it was pitch dark. Ahead, only a small, red dot could be seen in the kitchen, belonging to the kettle on the counter. She wondered what had woken her suddenly, and her heart was drumming.

_knock._

Her small frame jumped at the noise, coming from the door on which she was leaning. She stood, and wished she had a peep hole. Instead, she checked the chain lock was secure and cracked the door open.

A force crashed through, busting the lock, and she darted back, grabbing the phone of the hook and jolted down the hall. The hallway lighting outside filtered in, lighting her way dimly.

A hand grasped her neck from behind, and she was thrown against a wall, pain shooting through her.

"Don't be scared," a male voice whispered, one that she faintly recognised. "Please, Anya," he whispered again, but her mind was spinning. She was too stunned to simply weep.

"O-ok-kay." She gasped, and the hand released her. The floor fell to her feet instantly.

It was then that he turned, in a way that allowed the light to shine on his face. While his hair was shorter, his skin pastier, he was recognisable instantly. "A-aiden?" She gasped, her voice barely making it passed her lips. She gripped the phone in her hands, but he snatched it away, his eyes sharp and frightening. "No. No calling him."

Anya's eyes watered in frustration. "W-who?"

"That weed I saw here earlier," he threatened, throwing the phone to the solid wooden floor, before crushing it with multiple stamps with his feet. Anya watched in fury and fear.


	4. Chapter 4

Spencer watched and observed Emily for 7 minutes, during which time she had repeated the cycle of dialing a number, holding the cell to her ear and throwing it back down 3 times. Her concerned state was evident by her ignorance to Reid's intense stare, who had witnessed similar behavioural patterns in Morgan the previous day. Leaning on the back of his curled fingers, he didn't notice another, older agent appear behind him.

"People watching isn't polite, kid," Rossi's dry voice commented, but Spencer held up his hand for him to stop speaking. "Emily's agitated about something," he explained vaguely. Rossi leaned over to join his line of sight. "Yeah, Morgan mentioned something yesterday about our Miss Morson not answering her calls," he said, and flinched as Spencer snapped his eyes round to his face. "How long?" he asked quickly, and Rossi could see the fear in his distant brown eyes. "Two day's, Morgan's checking her house now," he explained, standing straight and correcting his jacket. As he grabbed his coffee from the young genius' desk, he stood and grabbed his bag hastily, checking his watch as he paced from the area. "She should be in class now," he observed impatiently, recalling the discarded time table pinned to the kitchen notice board.

His finger's tapped nervously against the strap to his satchel as he hovered around the entrance to the science department, waiting for the first signs of life from the patch of green. He waited, checking his watch continuously, until finally the doors crashed open to a wave of students eager to escape, grinning and laughing, as though nothing was wrong with the world. He knew, however, it was only a matter of time before the next victim was claimed. He only hoped they would catch him before that happened.

A few moments later, he caught a glimpse of bowed head, red waves shining in the sun, and he ran after her before stopping to thank life that she was okay.

"Hey!" another voice called, and his peripheral vision caught a kid running after her, seperated from the crowd. Her wide eyes glanced round, and stopped on Reid. She looked like a deer in the head lights.

"Hey," he heard her say as the distance closed between them, but not to him. The student kissed her forehead and threw his arm around her protectively.

"Reid, hi!" she laughed, her voice slightly shaky, but her eyes clouded. "Hey," he breathed, watching the male as he watched him suspiciously. His dark green eyes were throwing him a warning. "Erm," he began as she brushed his hair back, "is everything alright?"

She stared at him, he bottom lip trembling in the frozen smile. "Yeah, why?"

"Its just...have you lost your phone? We've been trying to call you," he reasoned, eyeing the guy fleetingly. "You lost it, didn't you?" he said, speaking for the first time. Something was strained about his voice.

Anya nodded, and looked up at him. "Had a little bad luck with phones, thankfully this one came to my aid and borrowed me his," she explained with a glint in her eyes, as her arm closest to the boy disappeared behind him. Reid followed it inconspicuously as she spoke, placing his sunglasses on from his bag. Behind them, he saw her small hand appear the other side, formed in the 'OK' signal.

"Well, as long as your OK," he breathed, looking around the grounds dismissively. With no other word, her boyfriend waved goodbye shortly and brought her away, and she didn't look back once.


	5. Chapter 5

Reid climbed into the driver side of the vehicle, having delayed his nagging thoughts until he could stop and attend to them completely, as so not to morph them into something else. There was something about that kid that he didn't like. He didn't seem protective. More...territorial. The warning in his eyes told him to back of, but something else was in them. An _or else_. Spencer couldn't explain it, but he had an instinct that was often replied upon by colleagues, and he wasn't about to question it.

Removing his glasses, the glare tried to blind him, but his eyes resisted. He had noticed it these last few days. It was becoming less and less painful, and now he could look outside without his lids filtering out the light.

Placing his satchel on the passenger seat, he sat back, and reviewed the present case for the millionth time, something he did at each new piece of information. No matter how minute it seemed.

Ok, two girls murdered within two weeks. Within days of Anya moving here. Similar physical descriptions, same university, each living in a 20 mile radius. Anya reports old boyfriend, drug addict/ alcoholic (questionable, Garcia found no records regarding treatment or rehabilitation periods), but has received anger management in the past.

He considered her words when she spoke about her luck with phones, as she glanced up kindly to that boy, the one he didn't trust. physically, he was different. His file said brown hair, hazel eyes, about a couple of inches shorter than him, and this kid was of a muscular build, hinted even under his long sleeved shirt. He also had lighter hair and green eyes. But something about his voice...

Something snapped.

Anya said she hadn't seen him for months...

_"This one came to my aid..."_

Flipping out his cell, he dialed Hotch's number, and only waited a second before he picked up.

"Hotcher here," his voice drones, low and detached.

"Hotch, I've just seen Anya, she's fine, but I don't think she's safe," he rushed out, his voice tripping slightly over his rapid words. His heart was thumping. Adrenaline surged through him. "How do you know?" he asked on the other end. But Reid wasn't ready to answer that now. He knew how scared he sounded now. "Get the team together, 20 minutes." He slapped the cell shut and threw it aside, started the engine and sped from the car lot.

He paced into the room, in which Morgan, Rossi, JJ and Prentiss sat, while Hotch and Garcia stood at the front next to the screen. "Go on," Hotch motioned, waiting with his hands held in front, his almost constant frown in place. Reid didn't take time to make eye contact with anyone else. "Ok, Derek, Emily, when Anya- I mean, Miss Morson, talked about that boyfriend, she said she didn't see him for months, right?" They nodded thoughtfully.

"Until one of her last nights at home," Derek recalled, and Reid stared at him, disheartened. "It was dark!" he realized suddenly, and he felt eyes surveying him in frustration. "Right," he began, his finger in the air to make a point, "What if," he proposed, slowly and carefully, "in those months he...changed?"

Without looking up at the following silence, he continued. "His physical description said he was basically of thin build and 5ft 8, but the kid i just met at the college with Anya is probably a few pounds short of Morgan. And we've seen how that can change a person's face," he concluded, and looked up quickly to see Morgan sneering at him.

"You think it's him?"

Reid made eye contact with JJ, who was watching him doubtfully. "The face, now i think of it, is similar. I felt like she was sending me a sign."

"Why?"

"She said, "_he came to my aid."_ She also signed that she was ok." He took a seat, feeling slightly dizzy, not meeting any of the eyes. "What if he's trapped her, forcing her into something in exchange for not..." he trailed off, and his wide eyes felt worn. Emily patted his shoulder maternally. "We should check it out, just to be sure," she finally announced, feeling Reid's shoulder relax beneath her hand.


	6. Chapter 6

The low drum of the engine was all that could be heard, and Prentiss' eyes kept glancing toward Reid in unease. His fingers were tapping on the screen of his cell constantly, and it was getting louder the more she watched.

"Reid!"

He jolted back to life, and shifted in his seat. "Hmm?"

"You alright?" she asked as her eyes switched back to the car in front, carrying Hotch, Rossi and Morgan. She saw Reid brush back his hair nervously, a habit he picked up when it was unkempt. Now, he seemed older.

"Im fine," he mumbled, but Prentiss knew. She knew what was going on in Spencer's mind, to an extent. She wasn't blind to a spark, either.

"Hey, you're shades," she observed as she noticed they were missing. He wasn't squinting at the glare of the sun anymore. "Yeah, I guess the headaches were psychosomatic," he laughed solemnly, looking down to his phone in thoughtful silence.

"What happened?" she asked, treading carefully. He was a relatively private person, with what little he had outside the workplace.

"I was convinced," he merely stated, and Prentiss knew that was all she would get. A few more moments of quiet, and they turned into the street after the car. "So, pre-muscle Morgan, huh?"

A smirk sounded beside her, and the young genius was battling a smile. "You'll have to see the picture Garcia dug up," he advised, and silence followed again. Before long, they were pulling up at the bottom of the drive. "You go first," she advised, and turned to see the doctor eyeing it nervously. "I think that's not such a good idea...he was threatened when he saw me. You should go," he explained logically, but she saw the struggle within him. Without that logic, he would throw that door open and barge in like a bull.

"You're right, as always Doctor Reid."

Climbing out of the car, she signaled for the others to wait, and approached the door to the appartment block.

Pressing the buzzer next to Morson's name, she waited.

Reid checked his watch placed outside his sleeve, 5 43 pm. She should be home.

He waited, his eyes on Emily securely. Her head turned, and she shook it slightly. His chest felt weighted as he too climbed out, and slowly walked to join her. "No answer?"

"Nope," she observed, and pulled the handle on the door for it to open. It was unlocked, unsecured. Reid was adding all this up as he went along.

They trudged up the stair cases to the third floor, and found her door in the dimly lit hallway, lighting up its modern minimalist design. Emily's shoes clicked against the wooden flooring.

"Can you see anything?" she asked as Spencer cupped his hands to peak through the small pane of glass in the upper half of the door. "Its dark...but I can see the something in the hallway straight ahead. On the floor...small."

Spencer lent in forward to get a closer look, but felt the door give under his weight. It was open.

Nudging it cautiously, he glanced inside the dim apartment, feeling like this was some kind of violation. But then his eyes picked up the object on the floor, remnants of a crushed phone. "One down," Prentiss commented as she eyed the object from behind, and began searching the living room. Reid was frozen.

"Hey," her voice called softly, and he thawed to turn to the direction it came from. She was stood by a table, on which the phone stand was placed. He joined her as she stared at it. Underneath, a small, light green piece of paper poked out.

Nudging it out with his finger, it slide into view. On it was, from notes she had made on her timetable, her handwriting. slanted and rushed, a little like his own.

"What does it say?" Emily asked, having trouble deciphering the scrawled words.


	7. Chapter 7

_Its him. Im ok, hes talking about going away._

__The two agents stared at the note, but Reid's eyes were frozen in place. His voice caught on its way out. "He's got her."

Prentiss was silent as she took out her phone to call Hotch. "She's not here," she stated, but Spencer barely heard a word she said afterwards. _"Shes not here..."_ the words rang and bounded around his skull, until that small sentence clouded his mind.

Around him, the other agents began filtering through, moving around his rooted frame. Mumbling could be heard, but not differenciated.

A hand touched his shoulder, and he plummeted back to reality. "Kid, you alright?"

Rossi turned the younger man to face him, so he could catch sight of the green paper in his hands.

"No clue?" Reid shook his head numbly. "Dave, what if he hurts her?"

Rossi blinked at the use of his first name. Reid never used it. He looked over the younger man momentarily. Right now, he wasn't an agent. He was a friend, a family member, someone who cared for their new victim. And he needed to believe that she would be ok. "She means something to you, doesn't she?" he asked rhetorically. As an experienced man talking to a lesser one, he knew what the signs were. The kid had been unfocused since he met her.

Stubborn man that he was, he looked down coldly, and Reid was an impeccable behavioral analyst. He knew how to look indifferent. But Rossi recognized when it was a ruse. He placed his hand on his shoulder gently, and trying to motion him outside. "There's nothing we can do here, I'll drive," he offered, but Reid shrugged him away, his feet planted. He searched round aimlessly with his eyes. "There must be something. Where would he take her..." he murmured, more to his mind than the other agent. His lips moved in thought, shaping words together for processing. "He's clumsy," he observed, pointing to the crushed phone on the floor. "He won't have taken the time to cover his tracks, or hers. And he doesn't know we know it's him - he used a different accent when he spoke," he listed, for Rossi's benefit. Again, he looked down to the note in his fingers.

Without warning, he disappeared into the kitchen purposefully, and Rossi followed, confused and, as usual, trying to catch up. "What is it?" he asked, and found Reid opening the doors to a small cupboard next to the open door. He was focused, and thus didn't reply straight away.

"She's leaving clues," he muttered, just loud enough for the elder man to hear, and he pulled out a small white box. Lifting the lid, he emptied the contents, a sheet of small aspirin pills and the instruction page, and along with that, another green postet note tumbled out and slipped soundlessly to the floor.


	8. Chapter 8

Spencer's pulse thumped in his neck, harder and faster as he picked up the note. _It could say were theyre going, _his mind whispered, but he pushed it away, weary of the disappointment it that voice was wrong.

Rossi's hand got there first, taking it in his thick fingers with slight difficulty, but he managed it, and crouched next to his colleague.

"'He wont hurt me, I think, but he's scared, and nearly desperate'," Rossi narrated, the writing neater than the last one. "Maybe she wrote these in class after the idea hit her," he concluded, and looked to Reid, already standing.

"Why in here?" he asked as he stretched out his old legs, as Reid moved the box in his hands aimlessly. "I asked her for aspirin for a headache," he recalled, already considering another place to look.

"Is there anywhere else she might have hidden them?"

Reid shook his head after a long while thinking, having every detail in his memory banks.

.

Rossi left Reid to his musings to join Hotch and Prentiss in the living area, Hotch feeding instructions to Garcia relentlessly.

"Try every car hire company in the area who've rented out cars within the last week," he said, and Dave looked to Prentiss. Pulling her away, he looked at her questioningly. "This kid's been killing over two weeks," he reminded, but Emily shook her head. "They were each in a local area, and the bodies were abandoned at the site. He hasn't need a car until now," she explained, but Rossi was too on edge, for Reid's sake, to be presumptuous. They needed facts.

..

"Great, send us the car registration," Hotch requested half an hour later, before snapping the cell to a close. "Garcia has checked all car hire companies in a 10 mile radius and one reported that a nervous male matching Semlin's description hired a green Audi yesterday."

"That explains the green notes," Reid realized, sliding his collection of two between his palms. He praised her intelligence mentally, and the tiny hope relaxed him a little. Not completely, however. Each of the agents were sat down, he on the arm of one of the sofa's, poised for movement.

"We have the registration, lets move," Hotch ordered as he stood, and they each departed the apartment in a swift movement. "JJ's alerted the press for the public to look out for the car," he added on the way down, and Reid began to feel sick with excitement, as well as terror. He had seen too many innocent people die before his eyes to let relief take hold of him yet.


	9. Chapter 9

Rossi, from the apartment block, switched cars with Prentiss, resulting in Reid and himself being alone. It seemed like a good idea to open up an opportunity to talk with him, but now, when it came to it, he had no idea what to say. He didn't have the fatherly experience of even _the talk_, and up until now he was quite happy about it.

He glanced over to the Doctor, drumming his fingers non-rhythmically with his own on the wheel. "You haven't known her long," he commented, reaching in the very depths of his conversational banks to keep the kid from losing his mind. But no reply.

"You know, it was like that with Mrs Rossi number 1," he recalled, smiling fondly at the memory. "I met her and instantly fell. Each marriage, each attempt at another life, ill still never forget that one," he added, but caught himself before he sunk into his memories.

Spencer stared blankly out the window, but still clutched the green postet notes in his hands. He made no move to reply.

"we've got 'em, kid, smile," he reminded, and caught a momentary twitch at the corner of his mouth. "That's the spirit."

They pulled into the car lot of the unit, and paced inside wordlessly. Just as wordlessly, they gathered with the others in the briefing room.

"Right, JJ has contacted the press, the tv networks and the radios of Quantico, and the ones in the surrounding states in the unlikely event that he'll avoid capture," Penelope bustled, clutching the projector remote in the hand that wasnt motioning out her words. The screen popped on, and on it a picture of a green car displayed itself, the registration plate visible. "This will be on every tv by 7pm, on the hour, every hour," she concluded, taking a deep, refreshing breath to signal the end of her speech. "Good work, Garcia," Hotch complemented, and turned his face to Spencer.

"You, go home."

Reid began to protest that he wasn't as exhausted as he looked, but Hotch wasn't one you could argue with. "Reid, we'll need you're brain tomorrow but right now there's nothing more we can do. The whole state is on alert, it's only a matter of time."

Spencer rummaged to find a lack of logic, and nodded reluctantly. "You'll call as soon as-"

"As soon as, kid," Rossi's dry voice assured. Reid looked at him in thanks, before making his way out of the building.

.

Reid was barely through his apartment door before his phone buzzed in his pocket. His hands fumbled for it desperatly, snapped it open and held it to his ear.

"Hotch?"

A sound, like rain could be heard, and that was all for a moment. It seemed faint.

"Hello?"

A small weep, or a sigh, sounded in his ear. "Reid?"

Spencer clutched the cell to his ear. "Who is this?" His cracked voice barely touched the mouth piece.

"Thank god, you're ok," the voice breathed, and clear enough to be recognisable. Spencer very nearly dropped his phone at the sound of Anya's voice. "Where are you?" He asked, and his eyes noticed the fluidy reflection of grey on the floor by his window. He'd never been so happy to see it raining.

"Pay phone in Quantico," her scared voice replied, confirming Reid's reason for relief.

"I'm on my way," he stated, fully alert as he raced back out to his car. "I'll stay on the phone," he assured.


	10. Chapter 10

"Which pay phone are you at?" He rushed, trying to jam the key into the ignition with a shaking hand, the phone between his ear and his shoulder...

"The Thai takeout place," she replied, clutching the phone to her face as though it would provide heat. The very little shelter she had was a clear plastic roof, just big enough to save her head from the down pour. While there were other places she could shelter under, she found she would much rather be here revelling in the sound of his voice.

"There," his voice stated finally, just as a black car screeched to a stop. Out of it he ran, as did she to join him, unable to hide the watery smile from her face. She threw her shaking arms around his waist shamelessly, and his arms fell around her, warming her frozen frame.

"You're ok," he whispered into her hair, mirroring her thoughts. _he's ok, he's ok, he's fine... _

Finally he let her go, and too didn't think it wise for them both, particularly her, to be out in the rain much longer. He did, however, keep at a very close proximity until they made it to the car, and Anya climbed in the a passenger side, shivering but finally feeling safe. Reid climbed in seconds later, and turned to look at her. His short brown hair fell into his brown eyes, dripping heavily.

He didnt say a word, and slowly she smiled at his expression. A tear fell down her cheek, and she wiped it away before she began to fall apart. Her face, however, gave her away.

Soon, arms enveloped her, and she nudged closer, enjoying the warmth of this man who should have felt like a relative stranger, but didnt. The complete opposite, infact.

She calmed down in a few moments, and slide away to let the man drive. The heat was on full, and her limbs began to thaw, replacing the cold numbness with a dull ache. Water slide down her back, escaping her drying hair.

"What happened?" Reid asked, inevitable. As much as she would have liked to be left to forget her little adventure, the truth needed to be told.

"That night, the same one you and the others came, Aiden broke in and smashed the phone, took my mobile so I couldnt get into contact. That night he told me he was taking me on a trip," she recounted briefly.

"How did you escape?"

"He left to fill up, I slashed a tyre on the car and took my chance. It was a built up area, so I had plenty of places to hide. Thankfully it was only a few miles from the city."

Reid thought about it for a moment, and frowned suddenly. "He seemed...cosy around you," he observed, and Anya couldnt help but giggle at the term 'cosy'. Or feel happy about how protective he sounded. "The night he found me, he said he wanted to make a deal. Get back with him, no one gets hurt. I tried to protest, but then he..."

"He what?"

Anya caught on at what he was thinking, and instantly assured him that _that _didnt happen, and he took a deep breath to let out the falsely applied rage.

"He, erm, threatened someone in particular," she hinted, not wanting to admit her motives. Now, in the safety of his company and the heat of the car, it sounded like poor judgement, and lack of trust. "He saw you," she finally breathed, "and he's very jealous. Any guy is a threat in his mind, and that was when he was sober. Now, he's not the man I knew."

"He said that if I didn't agree to give us a chance, he would find you."

Reid held his breath in disbelief, not knowing what to think of her words. underlining the guilt and feeling of lack of faith on her part, he felt...kind of smug. That she wanted to protect a practical stranger.

But his other feelings nagged for addressing. "I'm an agent, what made you think you needed to put your life in danger for the sake of mine?"

She answered instantly. "When someone, or something threatens someone you care about, you first thought isn't that they can take care of themselves, its to do anything in your power to protect them."


	11. Chapter 11

"Ill call Hotch," he said as he rushed into a hall leading off from the front room, leaving Anya to scan the unfamiliar dark apartment. He returned with 2 towels, one for her, as he held the phone between his ear and shoulder.

"Hotch! She's here, shes ok," he blurted out, his eyes catching the calm expression on her face as she put her concentration into drying her hair. "Where are you?" the monotonous voice asked, and Spencer frowned. "At my apartment, why?"

"Good, stay there. We've had a sighting at a gas station 15 miles west," Hotch answered, and Reid nodded. "That must be where she escaped," he said, while the other end stayed silent for a moment.

"He's coming back for her, isn't he?" Reid realized outloud, and Hotch remained quiet for a second after. Anya stared at him, wide eyed, from the sofa. "I've gotta go, we have cops on red alert around the city, but Reid?"

Spencer unfroze and blinked heavily. "Yeah."

"This kid's sloppy, but hes also desperate, betrayed and on God only knows what. Keep alert, just in case."

Reid nodded silently, numbly, and clicked the end call button. "He won't find you," he assured, but he wasn't sure who he was comforting. Himself, or the girl in question.

"I should never have left him," she murmured guiltily, and Spencer felt an anger that had no target. "If he...hurts someone," she whispered, trailing off as she closed her eyes sadly. Spencer didn't know what to say just then.

"When he found you, and made you get back with him, what exactly did he say?" he questioned, rolling his desk chair to face her and sat down.

She considered for a moment, and brought herself back to the scene...

"Aiden," she said, and he turned just as he locked the front door to the apartment. "Why are you here?"

Aiden's face fell, but bloodshot eyes watering. He switched on the light next to the door, and it glistened in tears, just ready to fall. She monitored his movements as he made his way to her, and they were coordinated, not clumsy or flailing. He seemed sober.

"I've missed that face," he whispered, gladness and misery tinging his voice at the same time, like their time wouldn't last. "I did something terrible," he admitted, his voice breaking, but she felt no pity for him. What he had done was his own fault.

"Have you?" she said, feigning ignorance. She figured she would be safer if he didn't know she knew what he had done. He glanced up at her, and shook his head. "Doesn't matter," he reasoned, the small smile not quite touching his eyes. "I'll stop now, im here," he whispered, stroking her face. She tried her best not to flinch. "As long as I have you, I shan't hurt anyone ever again," he mused, fascinated by her cheek.

His eyes snapped up at her suddenly, so sudden that she jumped. "Who was that skinny bastard anyway?" His voice was accusing.

"No one, just a neighbor," she lied, the cogs turning to fast to praise herself for her deception. "If he comes round again, don't worry. I'll be here," he whispered, pulling her closer until her cheek pressed against his chest, "Ill get rid of him."

Her brain screamed at his tone.

.

Reid's eyes were lost, wrinkling lightly with confusion as her words processed at speed.

"That was...smart," he said finally.

"It gave me a little freedom," she defended, and slipped off her shoes to pull her legs to her body. If he'd known that she knew he would have taken her, no question. By not knowing, he had to play normal. Innocent. Of course, Reid knew all that.

The man before her nodded slowly. "Don't regret running," he said, pleadingly in a way, meeting her eyes for the first time since the explanation. She stayed silent, and agreed. It was her who had betrayed him. And as far as she knew, he had nothing on him.

"You should get some sleep," Reid suggested, motioning to the hallway with his head. "I'll stay up," he added, despite his evident desire to sleep.

"I'll stay up with you, i'm not tired," Anya quickly said, hoping her wide eyed alertness would convince him. A yawn signalled her deception. "Honest," she added pathetically as he chuckled. "I won't be able to sleep, regardless," she reasoned, and that seemed to settle his brown eyes.

"What time is it?" she asked, and noticed his watch, strapped on the outside of his sleeve. Unusual man, she thought, as he checked. "9:44."

Letting out a long breath, she glanced around his apartment, the bright center fixture not quite reaching all the corners of the room. Her eye's caught several frames awards, and she stood to find out what they were.

"Wow," she whispered, feeling his eyes on the back of her head. "Dr Spencer Reid," she confirmed, his first name new to her as well as his title.


	12. Chapter 12

Seconds ticked by, becoming minutes, and the suspense was too much to bare, it wore on Anya's mind like sand paper. She paced constantly, sat down, stood back up and went back over to the award wall, placed in darkness as it was, while Reid was waiting for more news at the dining table. The cell was silent, resting next to his hand while the other flipped through the tv channels. They both listened out for news, of a chase or and an attack, something that signaled Aiden.

"I'm glad i don't have carpet," his light voice joked, interrupting whatever train of thought she was following, surprisingly calm. Anya looked down at her feet self consciously, fidgeting against the wooden floor. Eventually, she returned to her place on the sofa, allowing her fingers to tap on a discarded book she held to her lap.

The TV switched of, and the room darkened minutely, while Spencer joined her on the sofa. "Tell me something," he said, capturing Anya's attention. She looked round to look at him.

"Why did you move here?"

She slouched her shoulders in thought at the question, seeming irrelevant and odd at this time.

"A need for independence. And opportunity," she admitted, meeting his eyes shyly. He seemed thoughtful at her response.

"It's just...you seemed to point the finger at him pretty quickly. I assumed that was the reason you left."

She shook her head. "Up until the night he was at my door, the last time I saw him, he was pretty much avoidant..."

"...until he found out you were leaving," he finished. She nodded silently. "The idea of me going away meant that I was cutting myself off for good, I guess. To him anyway."

The room fell quiet for a few moments. She was staring away, while he was watching her vacant expression waver. Finally, she turned to him, a curious twinkle in her eye.

"So, super genius Dr. Spencer Reid," she sang slightly, and he grinned at the way she said it. "You seem surprised," he told her, and just at that moment she yawned.

"Yeah, not really," her voice said sleepily, and she shuffled closer to him to rest her head on his shoulder as a cushion. His breath hitched in his chest.

"Get some sleep," he whispered to her, but her slowing breaths told him she as already there. With great effort not to disturb her, his arm reached round her shoulders, where it stayed.

It wasn't long before his eyes drifted to a close, his brain telling him to shut down at a time when he shouldn't.

...

_Click._

Anya's eyes drifted open slowly, sleepily, not quite sure what had woken her. Her eyes were unfocused, only seeing black for a second, before they cleared.

They fixed on something ahead...something close.

"Reid?" she whispered, but the man was beneath her shoulder, raising and falling with each calm breath. Her eyes went back to the area directly ahead, a pair of legs. She raised her eyes, her pulse rapid and her lungs short of air.

"Aiden," her trembling lips formed, but no sound came out. The look in his eyes made her sure of his intent, darkly set behind the gun, pointed right at the pair on the sofa.


	13. Chapter 13

"You little bitch," he growled, the gun shaking in his hand. Eyes glinting dangerously with the light of anger. Anya was frozen in place, too frightened to move to wake Reid.

"Not gonna say anything?" he continued, his expression manic. Sweat dripped from his jaw bone.

She felt a movement then, and in moments Reid's hands were braced out in defense.

"Aiden, drop the gun."

A panicked laugh escaped his mouth, filling the silent room, Anya was beginning to feel nauseated. "That's it?!"

"This is what you ran to?!" he shouted. A tear fell from her eye from strain.

Reid leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, his hands still braced upwards. "Aiden, come on, you don't wanna hurt her, do you?"

"Don't try that, she ran from me. I trusted her," he scowled, sweat mingling with tears.

...

He glanced over to his phone, still positioned on the desk, as it began to ring. It flashed and turned on its own, doing a half circle in the otherwise tense silence, before it went to voice-mail.

"If I don't answer that, there's going to be a lot of other people on their way, more armed and less scared than you," he warned, his eyes flitting from the kid in front of him and the cell. The gun stayed on Anya, unyielding.

"Ai-Aiden," the small voice whimpered, and the gun rose as she did, positioning herself a short distance from Reid.

"Don't move," he threatened, his voice as shaky as before, if not worse.

The cell rang again, and Aiden shot his head round to look. "Who is it?!"

"Those people he was talking about, Ade. They'll be here, and they're professionals. I don't want you to get-"

"No! That won't work," he laughed mechanically, the gun pointed at Reid in a frantic gesture.

"You said you wanted more freedom with me, and this is what happens..." he wept pathetically, the gun locked in place and that betrayal in his naked hazel eyes. Almost as quickly, he recovered, and she was reminded of a psychopathic villain you see only in movies.

"They won't have anyone to save," his quiet voice said, dangerously low. The phone rang again, and he stormed over to shoot it, blasting a hole through the table. Then he spun on the spot, and...

_BANG._

__...

A short, glorious delay, followed by blinding pain. Instinctively a hand shot to the wounded area, and hot blood seeped through the side of his neck. A scream broke into the ringing in his ears, but he could barely place a name to the terrible sound, one he wanted to stop. One that should be laughter...

His limp body collapsed, but his senses had disappeared before he could feel the landing.

...

The room seemed to shake, her world trembled. She couldn't move, but she knew she would start running soon, she had too.

"I ne-ed...to..." she sounded out breathlessly, and soon she was racing into the kitchen, leaving a stunned Aiden to stare at his hand in fright, still outstretched before him. She returned with a towel she had used on her hair, just about dry, and pressed it to his neck.

"If he dies..."

Aiden was oblivious to her words, but the sound caught him off guard, and he jumped, terror on his face. The face she would hate for as long as it had blood pumping behind it. Every look she threw his way told him that.

"Wha-...what..." he whispered, and it sounded like shouting in the deafening silence. Her fear was snatched away from him, and morphed its self into a few short snippets of thought.

_Please...don't die...Spencer._

A knocking sounded, and her heart jumped in its cavity. She looked up from the sofa, her hand braced on the towel, secured.

Another knock, followed by a muffled voice call, "Reid? Open up."

_Thank God, _she breathed internally, not hearing a sound from the man frozen behind her. It seemed he was too terrified to even breath properly.

"Quick!" she called out with a desperate cry, and the door busted open with ease.

Something tugged her away behind her neck, and her hand was torn from Spencer. Her eyes flitted round desperately, panicked and not knowing what was happening, and she caught the sight of a discarded gun on the floor. Her back was slammed against a chest securely as several people poured in, guns pointed at them.

Relief ran through her when a woman, Prentiss, rushed to Reid's aid.

"Hotch," her small voice called, a frightened tear running down her red cheek. Fear exploded in her chest.

A tall, black haired man she didn't recognize looked back behind his weapon, trained on the man behind her, but only for a second.

"Aiden, let her go," his cold voice ordered, but the hand only tightened. With the increased pressure, something sharp poked into her lower back. He didn't say a word, and his arm was trembling with it's intense strain.

"Hotch!" Morgan called behind, his eyebrows low and his wide eyes frightened as his eyes switched from them to the younger man on the sofa, barely breathing.

"They're on their way," he snapped, not bothering to look back. "Aiden, this can only end one of two ways; you let her go, we don't shoot you...You can work the other one out yourself-"

"Aiden, please," Anya cried, tearing at the skin on his forearm, but he was locked, like a robot. Her tears ran from her terrified, wide eyes, flitting around frantically, but always finding Reid. She was sure his bloodied chest wasn't moving anymore.

"REI-"

A sharp object sent a pain through her, and it spread like wild fire. Her words caught with a choke.

Distantly, she heard a gun shot as she fell to the floor, figures becoming blurred at they entered her peripheral vision.


	14. Chapter 14

Voices, distant, muffled, wordless...darkness that wasn't quite darkness...bright, blurred shapes swam into view, unfocused.

...

Emily was lost, the world spinning around her in slow motion, but staying in the same confined, dimly lit room she had never entered. Her hand was damp with blood, and the seconds that ticked by felt wasted. If Reid didn't get help soon, she didn't even want to finish the sentence. The possibility felt unreal.

"Hotch," she whispered again, but the agent was crouched down at the other side of the room, checking that scumbag's pulse. The agent in her was gone, forgotten, and she only wanted him to suffer for hurting the young genius.

Then her eyes caught the mass of red hair on the floor.

"Anya..." she quietly wept, her white dress stained with her own blood, and perhaps the blood of her unmoving ex.

"They're both alive, just about," the cold voice announced, but that brought little relief to the agent.

Then everything seemed to float around her, and she was moving without thinking, automated control taking over, as the paramedics streamed in. She made sure Reid was treated and taken away first, closely followed by Anya on her stretcher, and before she knew it Semlin was being transported in a secure ambulance, and she hoped that was the last time she saw him.

"Prentiss, go with Anya, I'll stay with him," Rossi advised kindly, his eyes tired but alarmed. His face seemed older somehow.

"Dave I-"

"She knows you, if...when she wakes up, she'll want to see a familiar face."

Prentiss nodded at his ever-logical wisdom, but the sickness in her stomach strengthened as she distanced herself from his ambulance, her last image of it being full to the brim with paramedics, concealing her view. In some ways she was relieved, to not see her friend, her surrogate little brother, the way he was. But in others, she wished that he didn't need that many to bring him back.

Climbing reluctantly in the back, she sat next to Anya's still body, her chest rising shallowly, her already pale skin white and pasty. The most obvious sign of life was the beads of cool sweat on her forehead, matting her hair in small curls. Emily took her hand, the cold sending repressed shock waves through her, and squeezed it.

"Please, let him be ok, for her sake," she whispered to an unknown God, and in that moment she wished that she believed in one. Needing a girl close to death for support only made her see how tragic the situation had become.

...

Her body felt heavy, that was the first thing she noticed, distantly registering in her fatigued mind. Next was the numbness radiating from the right side of her lower back, but she couldn't be sure. Her whole body felt it.

Anya's eyes drifted open, and the blinding light forced them shut again. Seconds later, she risked it again, slower than before, and pain shot through them.

_Reid..._

"Reid..."

"Rossi!"

Her eyes snapped open again to the voice, vaguely familiar, and her pulse quickened before she knew it was there. She shifted restlessly to re-position herself, but just then a face came into view.

"Doctor!" she called as it went away, and Anya knew the name that went with that face.

"P-Prentis-s," she murmured, and she moved her head to find her.

Her kind eyes smiled at her, but they looked exhausted. "Don't worry Anya, you're in hospital."

Alarm shot through her in short, small doses. "Why? Wheres-"

Prentiss was sat before a side window, through which Anya's eyes found another patient, wired up to a monitor. She recognized him, even with the tube protruding from his lips, concealing much of his profile from her, by the way her heart jolted.

"Reid," she wept, her voice becoming stronger, and a tear disappeared into her hair as the memories flooded back. The strongest being the fear that flowed through her at the sound of the gun shot. That same fear, she felt just as strongly now.


	15. Chapter 15

She couldn't tear her eyes from him, no matter how much she wanted to. It was like by just simply keeping her watch over him, she could make him ok.

But even in her tired brain, it would take much more than that. She could practically feel his warm blood soaking the towel beneath her hand, even now, instead of the alarm button in its place.

Prentiss was avoiding her line of sight stubbornly, and instead began talking. "He's better than he looks, as are you. I'll go and get a doctor to talk to you," she said, and hesitantly left the room without another word. Moments later, she returned, followed by a shorter woman, her kind eyes finding hers instantly.

"Hello, Anya," her calm voice greeted, her hands resting on the bed railings at the end.

"This is Dr Kimura," Prentiss chipped in, and returned to her seat beside her. Anya went back to look at the doctor.

"You're very lucky, I must say, I've not seen many people with a knife wound that missed each organ," she said lightly, a smile in her eyes. "You're just fine, you lost some blood but it's not irreplaceable."

Anya couldn't let the words sink in. Being awake was surely a sign that she was ok, being able to feel her body and limbs more so. She just wanted to know how he was.

"Doctor, what about-"

"Our Doctor Reid is a fighter, Anya, a stubborn one," she assured with a knowing smile. She didn't think that simple words would comfort her, but they did in a strange way. "Thankyou," she sighed, and another tear escaped, the sickness in her stomach still there, but not completely.

"I'll leave you to have some rest, you'll be happy to know you should be discharged by tomorrow."

"Thanks, Dr," Prentiss said, a small smile in her words. She didn't truly believe he was OK til now.

The room fell into an almost silence from then on, the only sound for a few minutes being the beeping of the heart rate monitor. Emily's eyes stayed on the girl, who had seemed to have fallen asleep of will. She would never tell her, but she had lost count over night how many times Spencer's name escaped her lips, shaking with panic. Only now could she see how sweet it was, when it seemed everything was almost OK.

If only the unknowing genius knew, she laughed silently to herself, her own eyes tearing up with a relieved smile, wiping them away with a trembling hand.

"How is she?"

Emily turned her head to Rossi, stood in the door way nonchalantly. The circles round his eyes told her he hadn't had any sleep, like her. She had seen him pace around the room next door for hours.

"She's ok," she breathed, to herself and to him, as she turned her eyes back to the sleeping woman. She looked so peaceful now, her pale skin no longer pasty, contrasting with her bright mane of hair beautifully. She wondered what Rossi thought of her, having never seen her before now. The look in his eyes told her already that his concern for her was as great as the kid next door. He was sat on the other side, opposite her, his hand clutched around his coffee cup.

His eyes snapped up to the window behind her after a minute, and a dry chuckle broke the silence.

"Poor Reid," he laughed quietly, shaking his head. Prentiss peered round to find Garcia bustling around his room with colorful baskets and cards, and she even sat a bear on the empty seat. Tears were messing up her make up, but she flitted round like a streak of color.

"Who sent all the cards?"

Rossi gave her a look that said the answer was obvious. "Some are Henry's, but the rest are hers."

Prentiss shook her head in amusement. "Just as he gets rid of those headaches," she sighed derisively. Her eyes caught his confusion before she realized what she said.

"Oh."

"Headaches?" his voice asked accusingly. Like anyone else who knew him, Reid getting headache's was not a good sign.

"He's fine now, Dave," she assured. But his wise eyes were not going to be put to rest by that simple comment. So she told him. Now that Reid was ok, she didnt think he would mind.

"It was psychosomatic, just as the doctor said," she finished, the story alot shorter than it seemed.

"That same day?"

She nodded. "I think she might have cleared something up for him."

Rossi looked at a loss for words, and glanced from the Emily to the young girl.

"This girl...she's a genius!" He whispered in shock, motioning her with his thumb, the frown a mix of mock and genuine confusion.

Emily nodded with the same sentiment. "They make quite the couple, huh?"


	16. Chapter 16

Pressure gripped his hand tightly, not quite crushing his fingers but almost enough to make it sweat. It was cold, and his thumb began brushing against the comparatively small knuckles before he knew what he was doing.

"An..."

In the blackness came a voice, clear and light, soft but not a whisper.

"Shh...you're ok," it told him, and he trusted the way his stomach fluttered.

...

"You should get home," Agent Hotchner's cool voice advised. Her finger's gripped tighter in response. Leaving was unthinkable. It was only a few minutes prior to his arrival that Reid was beginning to respond, and it gave her a fresh reason to stay.

"I've only been here an hour," she reminded him stubbornly, and heard nothing more from then for a good few minutes. He just stood in the door, arms crossed, but she recognized the loosened tie as a sign of stress. But he never shifted, never fidgeted. It was almost easy to forget he was there.

"But you haven't even left the hospital ye-"

"Sir? Not to cross the line but you have no argument here," Penelope explained quickly as she bustled in with tea from the hospital cafe. She passed him coffee clutched in her side with her arm, and he sipped it almost thirstily. Sitting on the other side of his bed, she sat the bear on her lap and watched him like a fascinating TV show.

"It seems like this happens too much, Reid," she whispered solemnly, her eyes tearing up behind her specs. She barely had any make up left to smudge.

"I would have thought JJ would've bought Henry," she added hastily, changing the subject as she wiped her bare eyes, not turning back to look at her superior.

"I think she's focusing on keeping Morgan from "making Semlin's coma permanent"," he said dryly, and Penelope sent a concerned look Anya's way before the girl laughed. Something in her would have liked to have been there when he made that vow.

Garcia sniffed a watery smile, and removed her misted blue rim glasses with her matching painted fingers. "You're handling this so well," she told her, a somewhat degenerated look in her bloodshot eyes. Anya looked between her and Hotchner for a second, and noticed how differently they handled their colleagues situation. The woman laughed at her expression.

"You're kind of in between, not that cold, though. Sir," she added, when the referenced man threw her a look.

The room fell into tense silence again, when Anya felt a pressure on her knuckles again. A breath escaped her mouth in surprise, and Garcia's eyes shot open.

"Huh? What's happening?"

"He's...-" she was cut of by a slightly sharper squeeze, and a low chuckle escaped his smiling lips when she looked up. A tear rolled down her cheek at his expression, followed by many, while Garcia was frozen in suspense. Finally, she took in a huge shaky breath and ran from the room, chanting to herself breathlessly, "Jello jello jello."

"I'll go get Prentiss," Hotch said briefly, and left her alone with Spencer. For a few moments he looked like he had fallen asleep again.

"Reid?" she whispered, and his reply was another squeeze. She wondered when she would get bored of that response, if ever. But she needed to hear his voice.

"I'm not moving until you say something."

The smile he gave then was subtle, but she saw the struggle in his flared nostrils. Her composure faltered at the small, breathy laugh.

"Fine, I'll go if you don't. Honestly is this how morphine-"

His eyes squinted open, and she caught a glimpse of his tired browns, and she smiled her last threat away. "Hello."

"Hey...," he began, clearing his raspy voice. His eyes shot open as they fell onto her, and he began to sit himself up. With some help, he was propped up on a pillow. Then he took her hand again, without another word, and without removing his eyes from her at all.

"What happened?" he quizzed, his voice a little clearer. Anya began to answer, but Garcia power walked in with two small white cups in her hands.

"One for you, and one for you, sweety. How're you feeling?"

Anya held her's in her hands as Reid looked gratefully at the jello, and soon Hotch and Prentiss joined them. The room was filled with smiles and brightness within seconds, even from Hotch, and questions on his well being bombarded him.

He was too weak to ask the majority to leave, too weak to answer them all. He wished silently for the quiet again, and Anya's knuckles to be back beneath his larger hand, and her threats about leaving if he didn't say another word.


	17. Chapter 17

"...What's going o-...Reid?"

Spencer looked up to the door way through the crowd of people intruding on his bed, and saw one of the missing faces. Rossi eyed each individual slowly, a look of stunned frustration in his old eyes.

"Why am I the last to know...everything," he said slowly to himself, sounding out each word with irritation. Reid suddenly felt sorry for the man, despite not being able to get a word in edge-ways for a few minutes. The room barely fell quiet, even then.

Garcia was rambling at lightening speed, taking short fueling breaths between each word. He couldn't decipher her words even if he tried. But Hotch was watching her with the look he gave the young doctor when he was doing the same.

"Garc-...Garcia...Penelope!"

The woman snapped her head round in panic, stopped dead in her speech. "S-sir?"

His expression soften slightly at the fear on her face, and he let a small smile light up his dark eyes. "I think we ought to give Reid a little piece," he suggested, making eye contact with Prentiss and Rossi as he said it. They seemed to deflate with realization.

"Yeah, I-...Sorry, Reid," Penelope mumbled, and began rushing the others out of the room. Hotch followed the herd of his colleagues, only taking a moment to glance back at Reid, a fatherly kindness and wisdom in his eyes.

He heard a shifting in the seat next to him.

"I should go too," Anya began musing, avoiding his gaze as she pushed herself up with her hands gripping the arms of the chair. She straightened herself up before Spencer could say a word, and a pained wince crossed her pale face.

"It's fine," she rushed when he began flipping back his covers to help, and stared him down into submission. Replacing his covers back, she tried to conceal the way she clutched at her side by sitting back down. "So, how are you-"

"What happened after I blacked out?"

Anya was stunned into silence, and her eyes began to waver. Eventually she tore them away when his filled with pain as the silence drew on.

"Nothing, the team got there just in time."

Her eyes shifted under his pressuring gaze, but she stayed silent.

"Something happened, I don't have to be a genius to know that."

When she looked back up at him, tears brimmed at her ocean-colored eyes. Somehow, he knew, then.

"He hurt you. While I was out."

She didn't move, not even her eyes strayed. He witnessed each tear descend down her cheek, leaving a shining path in its wake.

"Just as they got there, he pulled me away from you." Her hand went to her face, shaking as she wiped the tears away. "But I was fine, discharged this morning. He missed each organ, and I think he meant to."

His brain tuned the final words out, and all he could feel was a bubbling rage fill the pit at his stomach. Sat in this room, all its color, and her beside him, he had nowhere else to direct it. When he spoke, his words seemed to cut the atmosphere with a knife.

"I was meant to protect you."

She snapped her eyes back to his, hurt and anger and pain replacing the sadness. "Don't you dare blame yourself."

"Who else," he groaned, and realized the burning in his throat as he said it. His hand flew to his neck in discomfort, where he felt the bandage over the wound.

"Are you-"

"I'm fine," he snapped in a sharp whisper, and she retreated back into her seat.

...

"Reid, you did protect me."

His eyes drifted to hers automatically, in question. He was still fuming at himself, that he was unable to protect perhaps the one person he wanted to most, in all his life. "I wasn't prepared, so how? I was careless."

"No...well, a little. But when he pulled that trigger, he was aiming at me. Don't you remember?"

He shook his head, that particular scene a blank in his otherwise precise memory.

"You jumped in front of me, and he clipped you. If it wasn't for you, I would probably be dead."

Reid pushed his brain to remember, but there was nothing between Aiden shooting his cell and the searing pain of the gun shot. He couldn't even remember what he was thinking, what was going through his mind. If anything at all.

She watched the young man's face twitch, as an array of emotions and thoughts crossed his face, an effort to remember. She thought it strange in a way, that she could remember clearly, now, from the panic and terror down to the _thump_ next her feet as he began to fall, and he could not. She could, however, barely remember a thing from then, besides the blood soaked cloth clutched in her fingers, pressing as hard as she could without hurting any more of him. She was only going on what the others had recalled to her.

Finally, after what felt like hours of thoughtful quiet, his lips began to move. "I can only remember up until he began to pull the trigger."

She let a short, somewhat humourless laugh escape her, and she earned a puzzled look her way.

"It seems that my memory stops not long after that," she explained, a small smile remaining on her face, and his softened in response. His guilt, however, was not completely gone, but his small shy grin was a start. Slowly, he closed his eyes and let his head fall back onto the pillows, and she replaced her hand in his without thinking.

The last thing she saw was his expression melt into one of content, the last she felt was his thumb on her fingers. She was asleep within seconds, and she didn't even hear Rossi enter, and pause at the scene in the doorway.


End file.
